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- Author: Alexandre Dumas
Book online «The Count of Monte Cristo, Illustrated by Alexandre Dumas (electronic reader txt) 📖». Author Alexandre Dumas
“Not badly, by any means,” said the young man; “I was born for a diplomatist.”
“Well, you must become a diplomatist; diplomacy, you know, is something that is not to be acquired; it is instinctive. Have you lost your heart?”
“Indeed, I fear it,” replied Andrea, in the tone in which he had heard Dorante or Valère reply to Alceste[21] at the Théâtre Français.
“Is your love returned?”
“I suppose so,” said Andrea with a triumphant smile, “since I am accepted. But I must not forget one grand point.”
“Which?”
“That I have been singularly assisted.”
“Nonsense.”
“I have, indeed.”
“By circumstances?”
“No; by you.”
“By me? Not at all, prince,” said Monte Cristo laying a marked stress on the title, “what have I done for you? Are not your name, your social position, and your merit sufficient?”
“No,” said Andrea,—“no; it is useless for you to say so, count. I maintain that the position of a man like you has done more than my name, my social position, and my merit.”
“You are completely mistaken, sir,” said Monte Cristo coldly, who felt the perfidious manœuvre of the young man, and understood the bearing of his words; “you only acquired my protection after the influence and fortune of your father had been ascertained; for, after all, who procured for me, who had never seen either you or your illustrious father, the pleasure of your acquaintance?—two of my good friends, Lord Wilmore and the Abbé Busoni. What encouraged me not to become your surety, but to patronize you?—your father’s name, so well known in Italy and so highly honored. Personally, I do not know you.”
This calm tone and perfect ease made Andrea feel that he was, for the moment, restrained by a more muscular hand than his own, and that the restraint could not be easily broken through.
“Oh, then my father has really a very large fortune, count?”
“It appears so, sir,” replied Monte Cristo.
“Do you know if the marriage settlement he promised me has come?”
“I have been advised of it.”
“But the three millions?”
“The three millions are probably on the road.”
“Then I shall really have them?”
“Oh, well,” said the count, “I do not think you have yet known the want of money.”
Andrea was so surprised that he pondered the matter for a moment. Then, arousing from his reverie:
“Now, sir, I have one request to make to you, which you will understand, even if it should be disagreeable to you.”
“Proceed,” said Monte Cristo.
“I have formed an acquaintance, thanks to my good fortune, with many noted persons, and have, at least for the moment, a crowd of friends. But marrying, as I am about to do, before all Paris, I ought to be supported by an illustrious name, and in the absence of the paternal hand some powerful one ought to lead me to the altar; now, my father is not coming to Paris, is he?”
“He is old, covered with wounds, and suffers dreadfully, he says, in travelling.”
“I understand; well, I am come to ask a favor of you.”
“Of me?”
“Yes, of you.”
“And pray what may it be?”
“Well, to take his part.”
“Ah, my dear sir! What?—after the varied relations I have had the happiness to sustain towards you, can it be that you know me so little as to ask such a thing? Ask me to lend you half a million and, although such a loan is somewhat rare, on my honor, you would annoy me less! Know, then, what I thought I had already told you, that in participation in this world’s affairs, more especially in their moral aspects, the Count of Monte Cristo has never ceased to entertain the scruples and even the superstitions of the East. I, who have a seraglio at Cairo, one at Smyrna, and one at Constantinople, preside at a wedding?—never!”
“Then you refuse me?”
“Decidedly; and were you my son or my brother I would refuse you in the same way.”
“But what must be done?” said Andrea, disappointed.
“You said just now that you had a hundred friends.”
“Very true, but you introduced me at M. Danglars’.”
“Not at all! Let us recall the exact facts. You met him at a dinner party at my house, and you introduced yourself at his house; that is a totally different affair.”
“Yes, but, by my marriage, you have forwarded that.”
“I?—not in the least, I beg you to believe. Recollect what I told you when you asked me to propose you. ‘Oh, I never make matches, my dear prince, it is my settled principle.’” Andrea bit his lips.
“But, at least, you will be there?”
“Will all Paris be there?”
“Oh, certainly.”
“Well, like all Paris, I shall be there too,” said the count.
“And will you sign the contract?”
“I see no objection to that; my scruples do not go thus far.”
“Well, since you will grant me no more, I must be content with what you give me. But one word more, count.”
“What is it?”
“Advice.”
“Be careful; advice is worse than a service.”
“Oh, you can give me this without compromising yourself.”
“Tell me what it is.”
“Is my wife’s fortune five hundred thousand livres?”
“That is the sum M. Danglars himself announced.”
“Must I receive it, or leave it in the hands of the notary?”
“This is the way such affairs are generally arranged when it is wished to do them stylishly: Your two solicitors appoint a meeting, when the contract is signed, for the next or the following day; then they exchange the two portions, for which they each give a receipt; then, when the marriage is celebrated, they place the amount at your disposal as the chief member of the alliance.”
“Because,” said Andrea, with a certain ill-concealed uneasiness, “I thought I heard my father-in-law say that he intended embarking our property in that famous railway affair of which you spoke just now.”
“Well,” replied Monte Cristo, “it will be the way, everybody says, of trebling your fortune in twelve months. Baron Danglars is a good father, and knows how to calculate.”
“In that case,” said Andrea, “everything is all right, excepting your refusal, which quite grieves me.”
“You must attribute it only to natural scruples under similar circumstances.”
“Well,” said Andrea, “let it be as you wish. This evening, then, at nine o’clock.”
“Adieu till then.”
Notwithstanding a slight resistance on the part of Monte Cristo, whose lips turned pale, but who preserved his ceremonious smile, Andrea seized the count’s hand, pressed it, jumped into his phaeton, and disappeared.
The four or five remaining hours before nine o’clock arrived, Andrea employed in riding, paying visits,—designed to induce those of whom he had spoken to appear at the banker’s in their gayest equipages,—dazzling them by promises of shares in schemes which have since turned every brain, and in which Danglars was just taking the initiative.
In fact, at half-past eight in the evening the grand salon, the gallery adjoining, and the three other drawing-rooms on the same floor, were filled with a perfumed crowd, who sympathized but little in the event, but who all participated in that love of being present wherever there is anything fresh to be seen. An Academician would say that the entertainments of the fashionable world are collections of flowers which attract inconstant butterflies, famished bees, and buzzing drones.
No one could deny that the rooms were splendidly illuminated; the light streamed forth on the gilt mouldings and the silk hangings; and all the bad taste of decorations, which had only their richness to boast of, shone in its splendor. Mademoiselle Eugénie was dressed with elegant simplicity in a figured white silk dress, and a white rose half concealed in her jet black hair was her only ornament, unaccompanied by a single jewel. Her eyes, however, betrayed that perfect confidence which contradicted the girlish simplicity of this modest attire.
Madame Danglars was chatting at a short distance with Debray, Beauchamp, and Château-Renaud. Debray was admitted to the house for this grand ceremony, but on the same plane with everyone else, and without any particular privilege. M. Danglars, surrounded by deputies and men connected with the revenue, was explaining a new theory of taxation which he intended to adopt when the course of events had compelled the government to call him into the ministry. Andrea, on whose arm hung one of the most consummate dandies of the Opera, was explaining to him rather cleverly, since he was obliged to be bold to appear at ease, his future projects, and the new luxuries he meant to introduce to Parisian fashions with his hundred and seventy-five thousand livres per annum.
The crowd moved to and fro in the rooms like an ebb and flow of turquoises, rubies, emeralds, opals, and diamonds. As usual, the oldest women were the most decorated, and the ugliest the most conspicuous. If there was a beautiful lily, or a sweet rose, you had to search for it, concealed in some corner behind a mother with a turban, or an aunt with a bird-of-paradise.
At each moment, in the midst of the crowd, the buzzing, and the laughter, the door-keeper’s voice was heard announcing some name well known in the financial department, respected in the army, or illustrious in the literary world, and which was acknowledged by a slight movement in the different groups. But for one whose privilege it was to agitate that ocean of human waves, how many were received with a look of indifference or a sneer of disdain!
At the moment when the hand of the massive time-piece, representing Endymion asleep, pointed to nine on its golden face, and the hammer, the faithful type of mechanical thought, struck nine times, the name of the Count of Monte Cristo resounded in its turn, and as if by an electric shock all the assembly turned towards the door. The count was dressed in black and with his habitual simplicity; his white waistcoat displayed his expansive noble chest and his black stock was singularly noticeable because of its contrast with the deadly paleness of his face. His only jewellery was a chain, so fine that the slender gold thread was scarcely perceptible on his white waistcoat.
A circle was immediately formed around the door. The count perceived at one glance Madame Danglars at one end of the drawing-room, M. Danglars at the other, and Eugénie in front of him. He first advanced towards the baroness, who was chatting with Madame de Villefort, who had come alone, Valentine being still an invalid; and without turning aside, so clear was the road left for him, he passed from the baroness to Eugénie, whom he complimented in such rapid and measured terms, that the proud artist was quite struck. Near her was Mademoiselle Louise d’Armilly, who thanked the count for the letters of introduction he had so kindly given her for Italy, which she intended immediately to make use of. On leaving these ladies he found himself with Danglars, who had advanced to meet him.
Having accomplished these three social duties, Monte Cristo stopped, looking around him with that expression peculiar to a certain class, which seems to say, “I have done my duty, now let others do theirs.”
Andrea, who was in an adjoining room, had shared in the sensation caused by the arrival of Monte Cristo, and now came forward to pay his respects to the count. He found him completely surrounded; all were eager to speak to him, as is always the case with those whose words are few and weighty. The solicitors arrived at this moment and arranged their scrawled papers on the velvet cloth embroidered with gold which covered the table prepared for the signature; it was a gilt table supported on lions’ claws. One of the notaries sat down, the other remained standing. They were about to proceed to the reading of the contract, which half Paris assembled was to sign. All took their places, or rather the ladies formed a circle, while the gentlemen (more indifferent to the restraints of what Boileau calls the style énergique) commented on the feverish agitation of Andrea, on M. Danglars’ riveted attention, Eugénie’s composure, and the light and sprightly manner in which the baroness treated this important affair.
The contract was read during a profound silence. But as soon as it was finished, the buzz was redoubled through all the drawing-rooms; the brilliant sums, the rolling millions which were to be at the command of the two young people, and which crowned the display of the wedding presents and the young lady’s diamonds, which had been made in a room entirely appropriated for that purpose, had exercised to the full their
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